It has been called the greatest audio entity one could ever
listen to; a song which can pierce the soul of even the
most dedicated music-hater: Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Not
only has it been designated thus; also, as one of the few
truly divinely inspired works, one which most men can only
marvel at, as they wallow in their appropriate humility.
These creations, however, are definitely not the only
aspects of entities beyond the scopes of men; there are far
more examples, which are seen every day, but often
I was walking outside, with this song echoing in the
recesses of my mind, on a dismal, overcast day in the
Autumnal quarter, a day when where the streets blended with
the atmosphere, when one could hardly look up without
feeling the singe of the wind against one's face. To me,
these days have always conjured up images of some distant,
looming storm, some silent tempest which, if not otherwise
distracted will soon wreak mayhem and disaster on my

This day had an intense air about it, as do others of its
ilk. This is most likely the fault of the storm under which
it is shadowed, as though it and its inhabitants are uneasy
and harrowed about the imminent predator waiting overhead
to pounce. As the sky overhead swam with deeper and deeper
shades of gray and hopeless black, the song in my mind was
reaching some vocal crescendo in the fourth movement, a
better foreteller of the gale I could not imagine. While
the winds bullied and tormented the defenseless
neighborhood, I started for my house. Unexpectedly, as the
crescendo was losing speed, a quiet, pacific violin entered
the musical fray in my brain, and the entire mood of the
symphony mellowed, the winds themselves pacified, seemingly
under Ludwig's fickle dominion. Thinking the storm had
passed, I continued blissfully onward to the meadows which
were my destination. Again I was assaulted, this time by a
different part of the symphony; not too long after the
first chorale. This was the startling and almost fearful,
but still uplifting, part in which the female and male
vocals collided like two huge tidal waves with the power to
splinter a fleet of ships with the German Alle Menschen
repeated several times. Upon this onslaught of euphony, I
turned from whatever I might have been thinking before, and
looked at some violently twisting and rising leaves and
other debris, and gazed at the playful heavens, again
ominous. Annoyed with Beethoven and the cruel elements, I
stood there, unmoving; indecisive, not knowing whether to
turn around or pursue my present course, I felt the excited
chorale still striking some unknown and inexplicable fear
within me, as though some divine creature were about to
strike me down in some vehemence which lies well beyond the
realms of verbal description. So, as the chorus continued
repeating its faithful mantra, the winds again rose up
stronger than before, as twigs began to snap and fall about
me; I was still, yet deeply moved. 

Perplexed at the whimsy antics of nature, I was about to
retreat to my home, when, in the remarkable symphony, a
single male vocal broke through the complicated
entanglement of godly voices, and I, despite the protests
of my superego, decided to continue on with some alien,
renewed vigor against the gusty weather, as though I were
the bearer of news about the winner of a war or some other
momentous aftermath. At this, as though impressed with my
display of singular determination, the wind made itself
placid, laying down before me. 

Violins were heard, along with the driving, male voice.
Suddenly, completely without warning and all at once, what
seemed like throngs of angelic, female voices sang as
though sent on an appeal to God on the eve of apocalypse.
They continued, soon joined by male voices, and other
instruments, in the most spiritual and epiphytic
reverberation I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing,
and, seemingly, all in my favor, against cruel and
remorseless nature, pleading to let me pass. I, however,
felt like only a petty bystander in this competition
between the symphony and the elements, completely unable to
comprehend, let alone justify either side's wish, only able
to observe the outcome and obey it as the gospel that I
knew it was. Thus, whether or not I ever achieved my
destination is beside the point. My sojourn in that small
neighborhood taught me perhaps what is life's most
important lesson. This lesson is clear: there are many
things in this world completely beyond most men's small
intellects. They may manifest themselves in certain
artworks, novels, or musical masterworks; however, these
manifestations only serve as reminders to arrogant man.
While it is true that these manifestations are created by
singular members of the selfsame race, these members serve
only as conduits of a greater, nearly incomprehensible
power; something which they, themselves, may often forget. 

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